Is Just To Love
by BeamMeDownCastiel
Summary: Moulin Rouge AU. Clint is a young writer who travels to Paris, Natasha is a courtesan. After Clint gets dragged to the show, their love starts to blossom. But when the Duke, a man named Loki, threatens to pull Natasha's life apart, how will she save Clint? I DON'T OWN ANYTHING I WRITE ABOUT, THEY ARE OWNED BY THEIR RESPECTIVE OWNERS. PLEASE DON'T SUE.
1. The Moulin Rouge

_The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return._

**Clint~**

I fell in love once, with the most beautiful of women. Her name was Natasha, or as she was more commonly known, 'The Black Widow'. Her name was given to her because of the desire and heartbreak she caused among both men and women. She was a dancer, a showgirl, at The Moulin Rouge. She was the star. A courtesan. A prostitute. A whore. Men from all around the world would give anything to spend just one night in her welcoming arms, bringing a lot of business to the night club and to the beautifully dangerous creatures of the underworld.

The woman I loved is dead.

This all started one year ago. It was 1899, the summer of love. I had travelled to Paris for experience so I could write. It was also to get away from my father's bitter voice. He had always wanted me to be a medical man like himself, because a writer was too fanciful for a man. I could not go one day without him raving at me about my career choice.

"_Clint, it is a woman's job to write, it earns no money and is not respectable, especially when a man writes about _love_. Arthur Conan Doyle is only so popular because of his mystery and suspense; there is no place for love in his work!"_

That was always my father's general tune. Don't do this, be a proper gentleman, so on and so forth. He never approved of my writing, even my mother's writing he ignored. When I was child I had hoped it was because he missed her too much to read it. She died when I was very young, and father never really forgave himself. She discovered him having an affair and I was only 3 years old when her broken heart killed her. Ever since my father hasn't been as fond of ladies of the night as he had been.

But, I digress. We don't always get what we desire.

When I arrived in Paris, I made my way to the city of Montmartre, where I was to live a penniless existence with the bohemian revolutionaries. I paid the landlady a suitable amount that I had earned in London working in a circus that had come to town. After they saw how handy I was with a bow and arrow, they signed me on and called me 'The Miraculous Hawk Eyed Man.' I couldn't tell my father though, I managed to convince him I had gotten a job in an Apothecary near Fleet Street. My time at the circus wasn't my best, the Ring Leader not being the most pleasant of men, but it was a job that paid quite well. Well, just as long as I didn't shoot anyone.

I sat down after unpacking my- very few- belongings and stared at my type writer. I had come to write about Freedom, Beauty, Truth and something I believed in above all things- _Love_. (_"Always this ridiculous obsession with love!"_ my father once began another of his rants.) There was only one problem. I'd never been in love. Luckily, whilst I sat puzzling over how to begin, an unconscious American fell through my roof. I had barely jumped out of my seat in shock when he was joined by a man dressed as a nun.

After apologising profusely, the nun (or rather, man) introduced himself.

"Why hello my dear! How do you do? My name is Anthony Edward Stark, but you can call me Tony. We were just upstairs rehearsing a play, you know."

"What?" I was still rather dazed where a piece of ceiling had fell on my head and was finding it hard to keep up with the speed in which he was speaking. I had a vague idea what he was talking about because of the actions he was using, pointing at his unconscious companion and resting his own head on his left shoulder sleeping. Apparently his friend suffered from a sickness called narcolepsy and would often doze off during rehearsals (as dinners, appointments, conversations and backstage.) The unconscious man was known as Steve, and was staring in a show called "Spectacular, Spectacular". But, as he was currently hanging upside down, Tony needed a willing volunteer to play his part.

And so, within the first hour of moving to Paris, I had been fell on, dressed up as a Swiss man and forced up a ladder in unconscious Steve's place. I was flicking through the script when I heard the most awful sound. Looking down on the set, I realised it was Tony, drunkenly prancing about and singing along to the strangest compilations of bangs and squeaks I'd ever heard. I wasn't the only one who couldn't stand the noise, as a man ( I assumed he was a man, he was wearing too much make up to tell) named Justin- or the Hammer as Tony called him several times- ran angrily over to the 'musician'.

"Oh stop! That insufferable droning is drowning out my words."

To which the 'musician' replied:

"I don't think a nun would be singing about a hill."

"Perhaps the nun should say-"

"No, no, no, the hills quake and shake-"

Just then, inspiration hit me. I tried to make an input, but everyone was drowning each other out. I tried waving my arms, throwing a nearby paintbrush (which hit unconscious Steve, who was woken and too tried to input) but nothing would work. So, I sucked in a large breath of air and sang as loud as I could:

"_The hiiiiiills are aliiiiiiive, with the sound of muuuuuuusiiiiiiiiiic!_"

I grinned down at the men, who were staring up at me in surprise. Even not-so-unconscious-anymore Steve had sat up.

"The hills are alive with the sound of music?! I _love_ it!"

I leant down towards them, one hand gripping the ladder tight, and continued my song.

"_With songs they have sung, for a thousand yeeeeeeeeaaaaars!"_

This was followed by excited gasps from both Tony and Steve. Tony turned to Justin.

"Perhaps you and Clint here could write the show together?"

Which, apparently, was a suggestion Justin did not want to hear, because he stormed out of the apartment with a yell and a slam.

"Well, I never really liked him anyway…"

"I think the boy has talent! I like him." Steve had gotten up and waltzed over to my ladder, where I found a slight pressure had found my crotch. I gasped and looked down, seeing Steve hastily pull his hand away.

"Nothing funny. I just like talent." He laughed awkwardly.

It was suddenly dawning on me that I was being voted into this production as the writer. Half of me was screaming '_Finally!_' whilst the other part was yelling '_Shit, shit, shit run away, Clint and don't turn back. Think of what your mother would think, you writing a show for the Moulin Rouge._'

All I could hear was my father's voice in my head.

"_You'll end up wasting your life at the Moulin Rouge with a cancan dancer!_"

This moment of blind panic sent me straight down my ladder, past the excited bohemians and half way back to my apartment.

"I-I-I can't write the show for the Moulin Rouge! I don't even know if I am a true bohemian revolutionary!"

"Do you believe in Beauty?" Tony spoke up.

"Yes."

"Freedom!" Steve chipped in.

"Yes, of course!"

"Truth?" Tony again.

"Yes."

"Love?" The musician spoke up. I believed his name to be Happy.

"Love? Above all things I believe in love! Love is like oxygen! Love lifts us up where we belong, all you need is love!"

I felt three pairs of hands reach down and pull me back up the steps, where I was held in a tight embrace filled with laughter. Tony pulled away, kissed my forehead and yelled:

"Then you can't fool us!"

I was pulled back into an even tighter embrace whilst Happy headed over to a counter, and I was to have my first taste of… _Absinthe_.

After one glass, my chest and throat were burning, my head was spinning and I small man in a green sparkling outfit seemed to be dancing around in front of me. I couldn't help but laugh, how could our plan go wrong when we were all feeling so right?! So, I got dressed up in one of Tony's finest suits and was to be passed off as a famous English writer.

Tony was right, I couldn't ruin a thing.

**Natasha~**

There was the hustle and bustle of the show business world around her, but she sat still. She stared at her own beautiful reflection, her red curls that fell past her smooth shoulders, her plump red lips that had known so many men, and her pale skin that looked the most delicate of marbles. No one cared or noticed that she hadn't a stitch on her body, and she wasn't the only nude woman in the building. This wasn't just a show, after all. There was always pudding. She was so far away in her own mind that she didn't notice the well-dressed man that appeared behind her. Not until he rested a hand on her smooth shoulder. She was snapped out of her reverie, but smiled up at his face.

"Yes, Nick?"

"Oh, my little strawberry, I forgot to mention. The Duke is coming tonight. He'll also be attending the show. Don't forget, he may want to invest if you give him a run for his money, so big smiles. You're good at using those lips to get men onside!"

He patted her shoulder and kissed the back of her head before walking hastily away. The show had begun.


	2. The Black Widow

_The French are glad to die for love. _

**Clint~**

It must have been the strangest experience of my life, walking into the Moulin Rouge. All those men, some of whom already had bulges in their pants. Perhaps the anticipation was too much. Some music started to blast from inside the night club, and we started to march through the big red doors. There was a rhythmic humming coming from the other men, so I joined in quietly, not quite hearing what they were singing.

When we got inside, I was greeted to the sight of many beautiful young women, skirts bunched up in their hands, sly grins on their faces whilst they prowled out of the doors. Just ahead of them was a man in a rather alarming red suit. All of a sudden, the young women began singing. I felt Tony shiver beside me, and saw him looking at a slender ginger woman who grinned. Steve's eyes were focused on a curvy dark haired woman who ran a hand through her wavy locks and blew a kiss at him. My eyes searched the women, wondering which one of them was The Black Widow.

"_Voulez vous coucher avec moi, ce soiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiir…_"

The sweet melody of the women's voices caused the few men left talking to be quiet. It was like an army of ruffles and lipstick. Then the music sped up, and the owner of the club stepped forward, leading his girls to battle.

"_When life's a__n awful bore, and inanes just a chore, at the Moulin Roooouge, you'll have FUN!"_

"_Here we are now, entertain us, 'cause we're stupid, and contagious."_

"_Got some dark desire, love don't play with fire, why not let it rip, live a little bit!"_

I was so caught up in the colours, dancing and music that I was guided through the dancing crowds. It was all so… bohemian.

"'_Cause it's good for your mind, oh yeah!"_

We found an empty table and watched as the Can-Can was performed.

"_Because we can can can! Yes we can ca__n can!"_

I have to admit, I loved it. It was so beautiful; nothing like my father had claimed it to be. Except for the inordinate amounts of men who weren't exactly in their sexual prime being rubbed down. I had a smile plastered on my face, one that was mirrored by my company. Tony reached over and grabbed my arm.

"We did it! We officially evaded Fury!"

I grinned back, about to reply, when, suddenly, it all went quiet. Tony spoke up again, and I looked to see where he was staring. There was a cold silver light filling the dance hall now, and I joined the rest of the crowd in staring up at the ceiling.

"It's her! The Black Widow…"

My mouth dropped open. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Her skin was milky pale, her lips ruby red and her hair, currently pinned up under a top hat, was a deep satin red. Her curvy figure was gripped tightly by a black leotard, with red sparkles scattered over her chest in the shape of an hour glass. One fishnet clad leg was resting on the rope holding her seat up, whilst the other heeled foot was pressed into the wood.

"_The French are glad to diiiiiiiiiiie for love. They delight in fighting duels. But I prefer a man who leaves and giiives expensive jewels."_

I took a deep breath and swallowed. The final word was whispered so seductively, I could barely take my eyes off her.

But there was someone else to see Natasha that night.

_The Duke._

**Natasha~**

She didn't look down at her audience, but sang out confidently. They were like unfed puppies, and she was the woman with the food. She was slowly lowered, and her swing was now under her control. She used her upper body strength the spin herself around the punters, leaning back and brushing their outstretched hands, whilst also looking for Nick Fury, her boss. He was nice- to her, at least. Natasha was his favourite, after all these years of working for him. She attracted so many men, even in the state she was when she appeared on his doorstep. Men would literally line up to be with her, and so she charged a lot more than the other women in this line of work. This was why Nick valued her so much. She was _ever_ so valuable. She cleared her throat quietly, and started to sing once more as she swung around the dance hall.

"_A kiss on the hand maybe quiet continental, but diamonds __are a girl's best friend."_

Her closer work mates joined her singing, Maria leading them. Maria was Nick's other favourite, but was 'less appreciated by him' as she put it, so in Maria's mind they were rivals as well as friends. Maria wasn't the best friend in the world, she would take any step to try and beat Natasha in Fury's eyes, but when the nights were cold and the company few they could put aside the petty fighting and have a nice time. Maria wasn't her only friend, of course, she had Peggy, Pepper, Jane, Darcy, and Betty, but Maria was the one she had to keep an eye on.

"_A kiss would be grand but it won't pay the rental on your humble flat, or help you feed your pussycat. Men grow cold as girls grow__ old, but we all lose our charms in the end. But square cut or pear shape these rocks don't lose their shape! Diamonds are a girl's best friend."_

She had spotted Fury, he was sitting next to a man in a fine suit, sporting a green tie and a green scarf with gold woven along the bottom. He was smirking at her, so she raised an eyebrow at him suggestively, pouting whilst she pushed a stranger to the floor and straddled him.

"'_Cause we are living in a material world and I am a material girl." _

Natasha took the large wad of cash from the stunned and now nicely aroused man, as she had done to all those who offered anything of any value and tucked it into her underwear. She strutted past the men, beckoning them with one finger.

"Come and get me boys."

Fury had stood up and was now talking to another man. But which was the Duke? She had thought it to be the man he was just talking to, but now she was unsure. She caught his eye and he nodded, making his way to the performing area, mirroring her.

"_There may come a ti__me when a lass needs a lawyer, because diamonds are a girl's best friend. There may come a time when a hard boiled employer thinks you're-"_

"_- Awful nice!"_

"_Forget that ice or else no dice!"_

She did her usual act of trying to get the diamonds off Fury, whilst scanning the crowd.

"Is he here?"

"He's the one Tony is shaking a hanky at." Fury said with a concerned gasp.

Natasha spotted Tony straight away, and he was shaking a handkerchief at a young, handsome man dressed in a well fitted suit and top hat, sitting in the booth next to the man she thought was the Duke not long ago. They ducked under the skirts to change, taking the opportunity to discuss business.

"Will he invest?" Natasha got straight to it.

"After spending the night with you? How could anyone refuse?!" Fury grinned. She could practically see the dollar bill signs flash across his good eye.

"What's his type? Wilting flower-" she pouted, "cute and fluffy-" she smiled a toothy grin "or smouldering temptress?" She growled seductively, pulling the corset over her breasts.

"I'd say smouldering temptress." Fury growled back, planting a firm kiss on her forehead. "Just think, darling, a real show in a real theatre! And you'll be-"

"A real actress." Natasha sighed longingly. She had always wanted to be an actress. When Fury offered her the job of it, if she could find an investor, she didn't hesitate in saying yes.

They burst out of their makeshift changing room and were greeted by a laugh and a cheer, Fury in his underwear and Natasha now in a feathery red number.

"_So that's when those louses go back to their spouses! Diamonds are a giiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiirls beeeeeeeeeeeeest… friend." _

She had been carried to the man she believed to be the Duke, and he slowly looked up at her, his eyes lingering on her body and his throat swallowing heavily. She raised an eyebrow, before turning to the rest of the audience with a grin.

"I'm afraid it's lady's choice!" This was followed by an uproar from her crowd, which she ignored to turn back.

"I believe you are expecting me? My name's Natasha, and what might your name be, kind sir?"

"Yes… Uh, Clint." He could barely speak, he was so stunned.

"Well, Clint, shall we dance?" She gently ran her teeth over her bottom lip, but he didn't move a muscle. She pouted, making a whining sound like a five year old who was refused a toy. This was followed by another uproar of people chanting her name over and over. She leant down, rubbing her hands up his thighs, her lips hovering over his, before grabbing his hands and pulling him up to dance with her. Clint seemed so shocked that she was pretty sure she could do anything to him. She pulled him into the middle of the dance floor where she led him in a kind of waltz-tango hybrid.

"So glad you could take an interest in our little show!" She spoke, her voice loud so she could be heard over the din of other dancers.

"It seems wonderful, I'd be delighted to be involved!" It's the most she'd heard him say, so far anyway. He seemed less stuck up than the usual Duke's she does business with, much more polite too.

"Really?!" She sounded too shocked. An investor!

"Yes, assuming you like what I do, of course!" He smiled shyly at her, but she flicked her hair hard enough he had to clutch her body so tightly to his she could feel him trying to stay calm.

"I'm sure I will." She reassured him, before rubbing herself down his body. She felt him shudder and heard him gasp uncomfortably. Definitely not like the other Duke's, then, she thought.

They continued to dance for a while, and Clint began to relax into it, enjoying himself more. She was looking forward to doing business with him. But soon, the dance was over, and she was back on her swing, being pulled up towards the ceiling.

"_Diamonds! Diamonds! Squaaare cut or pear s__haaape these rocks don't lose their shape. Diamonds… Are a girls… Best…" _

She took a deep breath, ready for her finale, but it caught in her throat. Her lungs tightened. Oh god, she couldn't breathe, her head began to spin, and the last thing she saw was the ceiling getting further away as she fell into black.


End file.
